Can't Buy Me Love. HEATHER MACALLISTER
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to bring up your past personal relationship in front of the man who is his client and your fiancé, you smile, casually acknowledge it, express regret that you’ve lost track of each other and that you don’t have more time to catch up now, then leave.”
Casual. Leave. This could work. She especially liked the leaving scenarios. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Alexis?”
“Yeah?”
“A shot of tequila afterward wouldn’t hurt.”
“AND ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY of the marriage ceremony, if no petition for dissolution has been filed, Alexis O’Hara shall be entitled to receive from the Individual Property of Vincent Cathardy, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars plus the salary she would expect to earn if she is not employed. Said salary will be computed according to the formulas in attachment A. On the second anniversary of the marriage ceremony, if no petition for dissolution has been filed, Ms. O’Hara shall be entitled to receive from the Individual Property of Vincent Cathardy, the sum of two hundred thousand dollars plus the salary she would expect to earn if she is not employed. On the third anniversary…”
And so on and so on. It was a humdinger of a pre-nup, but then Dylan Greene had always thought Alexis O’Hara was a humdinger of a woman.
Not that he’d had any recent firsthand experience of her humdingerness, but if memory served…
However, memory shouldn’t be serving anything right now. Dylan should concentrate on the clauses he was reading. Alexis and her lawyer would be. Vincent would be, too, though he’d written most of the contract himself. Go figure.
Dylan needed to remain sharp. Yeah, he was good and had a reputation as the go-to guy in family law and, if pressed, would admit that the reputation was deserved. After all, he’d successfully faced-off against big-shot lawyer Vincent in a number of pre-nup cases. All things considered, he’d been flattered, enormously flattered—all right, make that totally stunned—when Vincent Cathardy had retained him to negotiate the prenuptial agreement prior to the man’s own forthcoming marriage.
Vincent, senior partner in Swinehart, Cathardy and Steele, was a legend. His name was spoken in hushed tones. A lawyer going up against Vincent Cathardy could expect to receive at least half-a-dozen bottles of sympathy Scotch. Since Vincent Cathardy was a corporate lawyer and Dylan’s firm specialized in family law, Vincent wasn’t a regular opponent. When he was, the case usually involved family businesses and disputed inheritances or, of course, divorces. High-profile divorces. Expensive divorces.
Dylan wasn’t much of a drinker and he thought he probably had maybe four bottles left from the last time he’d faced Vincent Cathardy. Anyway, he kept waiting to discover the catch. He and Vincent didn’t move in the same legal—or social—circles. So why had Vincent hired him?
And then he’d caught the name of the bride on the papers. Alexis O’Hara. Alexis. Brilliant and ambitious Alexis.
She was working on a pretty good legend, herself, being Vincent’s right-hand man, or woman, as it were. Had she suggested Dylan? Nah. Not judging by the pinched look on her face when she’d walked into the lobby.
He hadn’t prepared himself for his first sight of her because he didn’t think he needed to. He’d been wrong, as his body quickly informed him. His heart had kicked up a notch—several notches—his blood had warmed and things had definitely stirred in the southern regions. Just like that. Seven years since he’d seen her and just like that his every nerve was attuned to her. He’d barely stopped himself from sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with a pent-up passion that would have left no doubt as to their former relationship. But he had stopped himself and returned Alexis’s cool, polite smile with one of his own.
Vincent had been standing there, of course, and Vincent was the sort of man who would have made it his business to learn that Dylan and Alexis were once involved. But that was law school, Dylan reminded himself. Puppy love. Over long ago. A fond memory, very fond as his reaction just told him, but nothing more. Certainly no threat to the big guy.
No, the reason Vincent had hired him was more likely Dylan’s record when they’d gone head-to-head. That must be it. The man respected him. Figured he was one of the best.
He was, but men of Vincent’s stature and experience wouldn’t like to admit it. And choosing Dylan to negotiate his pre-nup? Vincent had to know he was elevating Dylan to the legal stratosphere. But if he thought that entitled him to any special legal wrangling, then he thought wrong.
Dylan continued to read, conscious of the utter silence in the room except for the sound of his voice. No objections so far. And why would Alexis object? She was going to get her salary and a bonus for each year she stayed married to the guy. And it was payable during the marriage, not a settlement upon dissolution of the marriage. No, Alexis would be getting a nice little anniversary present each year. The funds were to become her separate property. Nice work, if you could get it, and Alexis apparently could.
He hadn’t figured her for the type, the give-it-all-up and-lounge-around-the-pool-between-spa-treatments type. Not before her legal brilliance had a chance to shine on its own.
What a waste.
But his opinion was completely inappropriate. He wasn’t supposed to be having opinions.
And he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Alexis. Seeing her again had an unnerving effect on him. It was as though he’d entered a classroom to find her waiting for him as usual, and he was entitled to the hot feelings that coursed through him. But he wasn’t entitled. Unfortunately, the feelings were still coursing. He was remembering long hours spent in her arms, kissing until their lips had gone numb, studying until they’d fallen asleep together. The scent of her skin and hair. The curve at her waist. The—no. Put the memories away, Dylan.
Alexis had become a striking woman, not that he’d expected her to go to seed or anything. He was going to have to watch himself this weekend.
Dylan glanced up to find her inky-black gaze on him. He’d always been fascinated by her eyes. They were the darkest brown he’d ever seen. It was unnerving to stare at them, and she knew it and used her eyes to excellent advantage.
Once or twice, he’d seen emotion in those eyes, but not often. And not now.
DYLAN STILL HADN’T DEVELOPED a poker face, Alexis saw. He’d always been easy to read, so when he’d split up with her without warning a few weeks before graduation, she’d been stunned that she’d never seen it coming. Even now, she could remember the expression in his eyes. Surprise that she was so upset. And pity—she’d hated that.
But no regret. No second thoughts.
Now, those warm, caramel-colored emotional semaphores were signaling disapproval across the polished walnut of the Victorian dining table.
As if he had any right to approve or disapprove of anything she did.
And so what if he or anyone else did disapprove? If Alexis wanted to marry Vincent, then that’s what she was going to do. She’d earned the right to do whatever she wanted. She’d worked hard for years, and guess what? She’d been working to achieve a certain kind of life and now that she was pulling in the kind of money to support that life, she didn’t have the time or the energy to enjoy it.
Alexis was tired of working at this insane pace. And darn it, she wanted kids eventually, but she didn’t want to be put on the mommy track because she couldn’t routinely work eighty to ninety hours a week or because she took off a couple of years.
That’s what had happened to every woman who’d given birth while Alexis had been at Swinehart, Cathardy and Steele. And it wasn’t just her firm, or even law, itself. Even Marisa, who’d joined the firm at the same time as Alexis, and who had her mother, younger sister and a nanny living with her, had given up and now consulted from her home.
So, it still came down to family or career. But why did women have to make this wrenching choice? Why couldn’t they do both? She’d never heard of the men in her office agonizing over